Today I bring you... yet another AU based around snow. đŸ˜‚ I've been wanting to write something for this particular Book of Murder side story for a few years now, so I'm really excited to finally start it! I hope y'all enjoy it!

A huge thank you to the lovely Chromehoplite for betaing for me! You helped me out so much on this! 3

Ciel had walked for hours, it seemed. The sky was pitch black, an endless abyss that offered no light, save for what was granted by the new moon. He could hardly see his own hands before his face. The looming darkness threatened to swallow up everything around him, from the thriving thorn bushes behind him to the lone hare scurrying around the base of a distant pine.

Aspens towered overhead, their spindly limbs barren and disfigured like monstrous hands reaching out for him, armed with icicles easily the size of his forearm. He had never seen their branches twisted and curled so unnaturally before, as if they were willed by ice itself to warp and contort into something wholly reminiscent of a distorted fairytale; though in this case, a horror story seemed far more appropriate than any sort of fairytale to the young man trapped within the endless maze of the forest.

Every step Ciel took was met with the resounding crunch of snow, boot-clad feet unsteady, trembling, sinking into the white powder that blanketed everything in sight. On any other day, he would have appreciated the snow-after all, it wasn't something he often saw as a child. As cold as they may have been, winters in London brought nothing but rain and sleet. Because of that, his first time seeing snow that rose to his ankles upon moving in with his aunt was a memory that he would always hold dear; however, he would never feel quite the same about snow again after wading through it for such an extended period of time.

His heart pounded as he trekked on, its echoing beats steadily driving him mad as they resounded in his ears. He had been outside in the elements too long, he knew that much, but the more he carried on, the more he began to realize that something was awry. He had long since lost feeling in his toes, and his nose was sure to be permanently stained a roseate shade. His eyes burned from the sharp bite of arctic wind, his blueing lips were chapped, and despite the thick, wool mittens covering his palms, his hands shook harshly-perhaps even more than his legs did.

It was cold. No, not just cold. Freezing.

It was all too clear that he was lost, trapped within the deepest depths of the winter-kissed woods with no way to know how far he had ventured from the nearest village, or the direction from which he had originally come. But with the temperatures plummeting further in this late hour, it was dangerously frigid, and he was almost certain that he wouldn't make it through the night unless he found a town soon.

He cursed himself internally. He had only meant to go for a walk, to clear his head of the troubles that had been plaguing him for over a fortnight; but now, he wished that he had never left the inn where he had been a guest. The atmosphere there may have been heavy, stifling even, but at least it was warm. He could have already eaten a hot meal and bundled up beside the fire, a book in his hands, and a cup of tea on the well-loved table nearest to the cozy chair nestled across from the hearth...

A strained cough rattled his already fragile lungs, viciously pulling him from his longing thoughts. At last, he began to slow, coming to an abrupt halt when the hoarse pants leaving his lips grew more forced. His legs wobbled precariously, his lower back throbbed, and before he could even register what was happening, he saw the ground coming nearer.

The snow's temperature was unbearable, seeping through the protective layers of his heaviest coat and the wool swathing his hands and knees. He looked up into the star-speckled skies, grateful, at the very least, that no fresh snow was falling.

His muscles pulsed, stiffened by the cold winter air and exhaustion weighing down on him like a thick, suffocating fog. He tried to push himself up, to rise from his knees and continue onwards until he could see the smoke rising from the many fireplaces of the closest village, but he couldn't even manage to steady himself. His arms gave out beneath him and the world around him blurred, darkness encroaching on his vision as he swayed and shivered uneasily.

He was tired, so very tired…

His left, flushed cheek met the snow and Ciel could only heave a hopeless sigh, swallowing thickly as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Everything was identical, leaving him with no options. If he could manage to stand again, it would still make no difference-his first footprints were long gone by now. Why had he been so foolish as to travel into the woods during a snowstorm?

His teeth clattered loudly as he shuddered; his eyelids were leaden, refusing to stay open despite the sheer force of will he exuded in an attempt to stay awake. He ached all over, limbs tingly and numb, and just as his body began to give into the insistent pull of unconsciousness, the crunching of snow resonated from betwixt the largest trees in front of him, drawing his attention for the briefest moment.

The swishing of fabric, silk if its slick sound was anything to go by, had the young man blinking rapidly. The noise disappeared, and for a moment, Ciel thought it nothing more than an illusion-a sick, twisted joke that his failing mind thought to play on him to rouse a false sense of hope. But then, a pair of obsidian boots appeared within his line of sight, manifesting just as his vision began to grey and fade. Their heels were as sharp as the icicles above, and their leather, twice as dark as the night sky; even masked by long, flowing robes of icy blue, he could make out their shape as they carried on past what he thought to be the stranger's knee.

He tried to speak, to ask who was there, to plead for aid, but before he could muster the strength, his vision was ensconced in shadows. And just before the world around him was washed away by deafening silence, he heard a voice as smooth as velvet croon as he was swept up into arms as cold as the snow from which he was seized.

"What a lovely mortal, you are... Do not fear, little prince. You're safe now, with me."